


Eulogy

by CrabbyCat



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Hurt No Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 21:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21215504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrabbyCat/pseuds/CrabbyCat
Summary: Giriko lived for many, many centuries - while he managed to outrun Death, others were not quite as lucky.





	Eulogy

Giriko has lost many people over the course of his life – some had been allies, some might’ve been lovers. Not that he cared much for those, after all, they all were just pawns, wholly unimportant in the long run. The one death that did hit home was Arachne’s – lifetimes, some more miserable than others, all for nothing in the end. 800 years’ worth of purpose, of planning, of revenge against Death, rendered to dust by the merry idiot parade of the DWMA. To Giriko’s astonishment, the one who did get him out of his despair, all the while kicking and screaming and scratching during his own downward spiral into madness (and wasn’t that a pretty sight; frightening and sad, but still so very pretty) was an accursed tool of the DWMA. Lethal and cold-blooded, the executioner still manages to look like an innocent kid, even if that illusion of a time before he got wrapped in all the madness usually melts away faster than Giriko can blink. He doesn’t trust the blond pest - after all, his obviously strategic retreat from their first fight has taught him not to underestimate him, even if he should not be a threat – but in Noah’s medley ragtag group, trust in general is a hard thing to find.

The aftermath of the priest’s fight against Stein and Miss Marie marks the start of Giriko’s downfall. Justin all but pins him to a couch in a crude imitation of a hug. Like pulling teeth, the enchanter eventually pries out the information he needs to understand the unusually clingy blond. Apparently Marie, responsible for quite nice but painful bruises covering the small priest, was someone Justin was fond of, valuing her company far more than others. Having her attack him, or maybe the gash across the back of his head, knocked something thought to be long forgotten loose in Justin’s head. Giriko doesn’t know why Justin came to him first – he didn’t want him to come, didn’t want to spend time with someone excelling at rubbing his nerves raw. In Giriko’s honest opinion, anyone who even considers him to be a source of comfort is coming from a very, very low place. He doesn’t quite stop himself from wiping away the tears now running down Justin’s cheeks – tears that signal even to him that the blond really is just a kid who only now fully realized his old life is utterly unattainable to him now.

They’re not friends, just enemies with certain benefits currently pursuing the same goal, Giriko tells himself. He long since stopped complaining when Justin sneaks into his room – at some point, the blond stopped going to his own place, though neither of them acknowledges it. Some nights are peaceful, some leave either or both waking in cold sweat – Giriko dreams of memories, lives long past, Justin never tells. Some nights have them tearing off their clothes, desperate for any kind of human warmth, until they’re bruised and bloody and exhausted. Giriko thinks he might love him, even if his mind resembles broken glass, the shards all too painful to ever attempt to fix. But they are not friends, even if Justin is the only one left making Giriko’s life worthwhile.

Whatever sympathy Justin still held for his old god, his old allies, is what ultimately leads to his demise. Giriko is busy wasting his day in the place Noah’s group is currently lurking at. It’s dark, damp, with miscellaneous items in more than less broken state littering every available surface. Nothing the brunet man is not used to, having seen more than his fair share of housings over the span of centuries. What he is not used to is the hideous, creepy clown that the progressively more and more broken kid kept around kicking open his door and disposing what is, at first glance, a bloody lump of clothes on his bed and vanishing just as quickly. 

It doesn’t take Giriko long to process what he is looking at. Justin’s robes are heavy with blood, his lips and cheeks and throat stained red. The older man has watched people bleed to death before – he’d caused such injuries before, mercilessly slaughtering foes of Arachne or poor fuckers down on their luck crossing his path. He never cared – men, women, children – their imminent deaths meant less to him than he could possibly begin to express. So it doesn’t register at first, how shallow the priest is breathing and how he seemingly turns paler every passing second. Justin’s eyes are open, the usual sky blue of his eyes turned dull, without focusing on anything, even if Giriko made enough of a ruckus to alert Noah and his goons. In some last heave of effort, Justin does manage to take Giriko’s hand – one cold from dread, one slick with blood. He whispers something that might have been ‘Giriko’, might’ve been ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘love you’ or maybe even everything, before he goes still, dies from injuries caused by old friends. It’s unfitting, Giriko thinks, that the executioner dies so far away from home, looking more peaceful in death than he ever did before, the kishin’s necklace still attached to him, with a rosary wrapped around his torn, bloody hand.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm somehow not really contend with the ending, but I accepted that I am incapable of writing Giriko going on a warpath and university's a bitch but I had this idea for a long time so yeah :) (and yeah I messed up the timeline and half-assed why he died but well)  
I'm not a native english speaker so if anyone finds mistakes I'd be happy to correct them :)


End file.
